


angels we have heard below

by axilet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e20 The Rapture, Gen, from a very dusty wip folder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axilet/pseuds/axilet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4.20 fixit AU. Castiel has a message for his vessel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jimmy woke to disorientation and the sharp smell of ozone in the air.

The first thing he did was call,  _Castiel_. Reaching out with his mind and with his mouth, more instinctive than breathing. That came second when his lungs forcibly reminded him they exist, followed by other organs with needs gone too long unfulfilled, a gradually increasing chorus of complaint. He stretched stiff limbs, sat up before realizing the significance of his actions—his body obeying his mental commands, moving  its head around and he saw what his eyes saw and heard what his ears heard. _I’m free,_ he told himself in disbelief, then dawning and probably blasphemous joy if Castiel were around to be subjected to it. He flexed his fingers and his toes, tears blurring his sight, and didn’t give a single shit. “I’m free,” he whispered, just to feel the vibrations of his vocal chords, his tongue curling around the words. _I’M FREE_ —

He froze when he registered where exactly he was: what looked like any typical hotel room, complete with bland wallpaper, potted plant, writing table, TV set, down to the too-soft bed he’s currently sinking into. It's so surreal that for a moment, he thought— he hoped—it was only a dream. He allowed himself to imagine that he had dreamed everything, even the light and the sound and the fury that had poured  into him, drowned him and swept him away but he was still alive, he had woken up and any moment Amelia will walk through the door and tell him...

Then he noticed: _there was no door._ No windows.

_Maybe,_ a tiny voice inside murmured, fragile with hope. _Maybe, just maybe, it’s over?_

Then the angel walked through the wall with a smooth lawyer’s smile, and Jimmy—remembered. 

As though a key had turned in a lock memories both alien and hauntingly familiar were suddenly crowding in: silver swords pinning their wrists and their ankles, the hands and the claws and the teeth tearing them open, tearing them apart—the screaming that went on and on, not just his own but the previously unimaginable, the sound of an angel of the Lord in agony, in betrayal— 

"You,” Jimmy snapped, somehow on his feet and already moving, Castiel’s rage in him like the angel itself taking over in a blinding instant. _You hurt us_. The accusation blazed in his mind like a brand, leaving no room for anything else, not reason or restraint. _You hurt us you hurt_ Castiel— 

“You forget your place,” Zachariah said, deceptively mild, and next moment Jimmy was reeling back, dropping to the floor, clutching at what felt like snakes squeezing around his neck, their fangs dripping poison deep into his flesh. Black dots danced in front of his eyes; his world shrunk down to the erratic beats of his heart, twisting and turning like a drowned fish in his chest. _God,_ he thought suddenly, irrationally, dying spasms from the corpse of the faith he couldn't quite bring himself to bury. _Oh God, oh God, please..._

The chokehold abruptly ceased. Jimmy sucked in lungfuls of sweet, blessed air; rolled over onto his back and continued the exercise, resistance completely drained out of him. He didn't even put up a struggle when Zachariah said, “Allow me,” and knelt down to brush his fingers against his skin, quickly, like he’s touching something dirty. After that Jimmy managed to push himself up, lean his heated forehead against the wall and gasp some more until he was almost normal again.

“I could do this as long as it takes,” Zachariah said cheerfully, brushing invisible lint off the knees of his neatly pressed trousers. “Care to try again?”

“No,” Jimmy rasped. He ran his tongue around the inside curve of his teeth, tasting the tang of his own blood. “You’ve made your point.”

“Sensible,” Zachariah said, approvingly. “If only the Winchesters were half as obedient as you,” he went on, musing, “there wouldn’t need to be so much of this song and dance.”

_You must listen to me, you must warn them—_

 Jimmy said nothing. But he couldn't stop himself from flinching, slightly, and Zachariah immediately snapped his fingers at him, taking obvious pleasure in his reaction. “Oh, I know you know,” the angel said. “Why bother with this otherwise?” He swept an arm out to indicate the room—the _prison_ that surrounded them. “It’s all right, I can hardly blame you.” His voice changed fluidly, became soft and sympathetic. “Just your tough luck to be paired up with the rogue angel. Not that it’s really Castiel’s fault either, I suppose.” He sighed with theatrical regret.

“Where is he?” Unconsciously, Jimmy rubbed his wrists; rubbed them again, more convulsively, when he realized what he’s doing.

Zachariah smiled, but there was a dangerous light in his eyes that gave it an unpleasant edge. “Sunday school. Where all bad little angels go until they’re good again.”

“School?” Jimmy echoed, blankly.

“At home. Heaven.” Zachariah deigned to elaborate. “You won’t be aware of this, but Castiel is very young for an angel. Almost a child, compared to some of us elders. So easily led astray by bad influences...” He trailed off, looking almost concerned.

Jimmy didn't have too long to worry over Castiel, though, when Zachariah continued, “Just wait a little longer, and you’ll have your perfect little angel companion back again.” He offered Jimmy a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Jimmy barely stopped himself from flinching. “Again?” he heard himself repeat, as though from a long distance away.

Zachariah gave him a slow, considering gaze. The fingers on his shoulder twitched warningly. “You said yes, Jimmy Novak. Yes to be filled with grace and yes to be wielded by the will of Heaven." There’s that raw scent in the air again, a shaking presence around the man that forcibly reminds Jimmy that he was speaking to an angel, one greater in hierarchy and power than Castiel. “This is what you were born for, ungrateful child,” Zachariah said. “You knew it when you first said yes and you still know it now.”

Involuntarily Jimmy remembered: Castiel inside him, being inside Castiel as the great wings snapped shut and embraced him in the gentle dark. The flare of grace and sanctification across his soul and the glorious moment when he was convinced he had made the right choice despite all his doubts and fears and God was looking at him and only him  _right then_ and he was beloved. There’s a part in him that’s still hungry for that soaring transcendence, that’s bleeding from where Castiel was ripped away. He couldn't deny the resonance of Zachariah's statement.

But neither would he forget this:

_For the world._ Castiel had whispered into his ear. _For Heaven come on earth. For your family._ For Mom and apple pie, he might as well have added.

It had been a lie, or the truth so twisted it might as well be a lie; and he’d sacrificed himself for it because sacrifice for a worthy cause was something he’d been taught from young was the purest form of love for his Lord and Savior. _If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple._

_I’ll be back soon and then they’ll understand,_ Jimmy convinced himself when he left his family behind to imagine the worst: that he was insane, that he no longer cared about them.  _This is war,_ Castiel said over the corpses with their eyes burned right out of the skulls, the graves of both demon and human alike.  _What precisely did you expect?_ Their body bled and healed and bled and healed in what seemed like a long, hopeless battle, glimpses of which disturbed his sleep and gave rise to terrible visions. In the small moments of consciousness allowed him he confessed  _Castiel, I’m scared_ only to be rebuked for his lack of faith. Castiel the shining, the pure and holy warrior of God had no time for doubt.

Until he did. 

In the end, in return for all that Jimmy had given up, this was to be his reward: the gut-wrenching revelation, the horror of Heaven's will exploding inside his head as Castiel screamed with rage and despair, fighting with every scrap of strength to stay, pleading with his siblings, pleading with his vessel. 

_What precisely did you expect?_

Not this. Never this. 

“Like it or not you and Castiel already have a bond,” Zachariah said to him, low and reasonable, as though he hadn’t just been marched up to death’s door and held over the edge. “You’re his chosen vessel. If you want to back out, though...” He shrugged elaborately. “It’s not like he doesn’t have other choices. After all, it’s in the blood.”

It took a few seconds, but Jimmy finally registered the words like ice water over his anger. _You are the only one who can help me._ He felt sick with a combination of relief and stark terror. Castiel had never touched his little girl, but he could have. He would have, if Jimmy had said no. Never mind she’s too young to really understand what yes meant, never mind she would have said anything if an angel came to her and promised: _I can take you to your father…_

Jimmy really wanted to believe Castiel had changed, that he would never take advantage of a child that way. But Castiel had been an obedient soldier much, much longer than he had been...whatever he was in the warehouse pacing up and down psyching himself up to blab Heaven’s secrets to Dean Winchester before the other angels attacked. The gleeful way Zachariah pronounced _Sunday school_ wasn't doing wonders to reassure him either. 

“I thought that might get your attention,” Zachariah said in satisfaction. Jimmy clenched his fists as the angel very obviously dismissed him, now that the _yes_ had been taken for granted and the job done. Again. It was hateful and humiliating but it was true. He couldn't allow Claire to suffer what he’s experienced. 

“Castiel will be back soon enough,” Zachariah said. “In the meantime...” He flicked a finger at the mini fridge. “Food and drinks are the house. Lie back, relax...and think of Heaven.”

With a rush of wind through the room Zachariah was gone and Jimmy was alone. Only, if Zachariah’s confidence held, not for long. His emotions finally welled free from the dark space they'd been forced into, coalescing into an exhaustion that sapped all strength from his legs. He fell more than sat down, hard, and put his head in his hands, wondering bleakly if it had even been possible to say no. How could he have said no? With the inevitability of the sun bleaching the land into a desert or the wind and the waves whittling at a rock, Castiel had bore down on him and overwhelmed him and taken him away.

Or maybe he was just trying to absolve himself of blame. _The Devil made me do it, honest._ Jimmy shook for a moment with slightly crazed laughter before stifling it with a hand over his mouth. Dwelling on the past wasn't going to help himself or his girls. Before, he’d been too much in awe of Castiel to complain too much, but now he knew that Castiel was not infallible, was not totally impervious to pesky human emotion there’s a chance that he could be persuaded to turn again. He’s aware there’s not much time left, but he had to try. 

“I can do this. I _must_ do this.” Softly, like a prayer: “I promised you, Castiel.”

He waited for about five seconds, but there was only silence. “Typical,” Jimmy muttered, and went to examine the contents of the fridge. If he’s lucky, there might be peaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not have moved out of my wips folder (you can see the original draft intended for Jimmy Big Bang in 'the storage space', called _and all god's children say_ ) were it not for Celesma and their awesome Novak stories. Thank you very much!
> 
> That said I know what's going to happen next chapter, but only a vague outline from then on. So this might not finish, or take a very long time to finish, so...reader beware. 
> 
> (Of course this assumes that there are more than a handful of people who are gonna read S4 fixits during S10...)
> 
> Last line is a Pratchett reference.


	2. Chapter 2

Jimmy stared up into a light so bright that it bled all lines and colors from the world, so that it seemed he stood in a vast, echoing space alone with his angel. With his eyes blinded, his ears full with the thunder of beating wings, his skin warm with the touch of grace—it was so easy to forget. That there was even a world outside the embrace of Castiel’s arms, love beyond his love for Castiel. He drew in a shivering breath that scorched his lungs and surged dizzily through his blood, as if he was already filling up, bursting with divine essence. As if he had already said yes.

 _No,_ he thought, a sudden resistance rising in him, cooling the fever. _No, it shouldn’t be this easy._  

Castiel withdrew slightly, his radiance dimming like a cloud slipping over the sun. Abruptly Jimmy fell back into reality, the sensations of his body; the ground steady under his feet, the bite of cold air against exposed skin and the swell of his lungs. Even something so small had value now.

 _What’s wrong?_ Castiel asked.

He didn’t sound angry, but there was definitely an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Jimmy felt a stab of guilt—here he was, stalling again, despite the tremendous urgency of the situation. Maybe he was seeking some sort of masochistic martyrdom, refusing Castiel’s help to make this less difficult on himself—or worse, maybe he didn’t really have as much faith in God’s plan as he should. But something he could barely articulate to himself was whispering _wait._ Throw this last moment of freedom away and he'd regret it forever.

“Give me a second,” he said, and turned his back on Castiel to stare at the house with its sleeping occupants. He was startled when he saw the light in the window-- _Claire’s_ bedroom window. His guts twisted painfully at the realization that she might have heard the front door opening and gotten up to investigate. He imagined her looking out at her father talking to himself in the night, dressed and ready to leave. Her face between the bannisters as she crept down the stairs listening to her parents argue so bitterly. Her thoughts and her fears ringing out to him through the distance between them clear as an angel’s voice while she ran hoping desperately she won’t be too late...

Behind him feathers rustled. _Jimmy..._ the angel warned.

 _I know._ But Jimmy couldn’t move. He was crying, he realized, he was weak and shaking and held upright only by Castiel’s steadying grip. This wasn’t right, he had said his goodbyes, he had made his peace with leaving his family for the greater good. _Castiel, what is this? Why do I feel as if_

Time skipped a beat. Castiel’s eyes, glass and quartz and opal, all the hundreds of them in their golden sockets turned at once to somewhere else, his attention divided.

_as if I haven’t seen my daughter in a thousand years?_

_Jimmy_ _—_ and Castiel’s hand was on his shoulder, pulling him forcefully away, another hand shielding his eyes. The air hummed as Castiel’s grace spilled over into the material realm, a growing vibration in his teeth and his bones that threatened to shake them out of his skin. _All will be well, I promise. Say yes. Say yes, now_ —

He woke up, the crash still ringing in his ears. Abruptly displaced in time and location Jimmy flailed upright from a nap he had not intended to take. He was back in the prison but things were very different now. The walls were trembling, the painting was dancing on its hook and he had the demise of the potted plant to thank for his rude awakening. Distantly he thought he could hear voices shouting, the clash of weapons. Part of him wondered if he should care whether he was en route to the frying pan or the fire.

The sound of wings shuddered through the air and suddenly Jimmy had company. A man and a woman grappled with each other in the ruin of the floor, while above and around glimpses of  their true forms slid in and out of reality, searing his eyes with blue-green afterimages. He backed away as shining feathers edged with steel stabbed at a marble torso delicately filigreed with golden symbols, webbing it with cracks. The man cried out in pain, spitting blood and wisps of withered grace. “You traitor!” he shouted. “You’ve been away too long, you’ve forgotten the will of our Father—”

“I’m not playing the traitor’s game with you,” the woman said, holding out her hand.  A sword flew into her palm and without hesitation she pierced her foe smoothly through his heart. “And I remember exactly why I fell.”

The dying angel thrashed as his grace lit up like a spark thrown onto dry wood. “Close your eyes!” the woman commanded and Jimmy obeyed, throwing himself to the ground. His eyelids flared red as the angel’s scream rattled through the air with a force that shook the world apart. The discord thrust into its core spread lightning-fast stripping the voice of its harmonies and its music until it was a thin fading wail. Then all was silent but the hard pounding in Jimmy’s ears.

Jimmy opened his eyes cautiously. The woman crouched over him, her shoulders braced and wings protectively spread. She was still holding the bloodied sword and Jimmy flinched away, reeling from the blasphemy of what he had just witnessed. _Castiel, weeping as he beheld his dead sister slain by a sibling’s blade._ For an instant the grief in his mouth tasted as fresh as it had on that day when the foundations of their world had crumbled together. “Which side are you on?” he demanded.

“I’m a friend of Castiel’s,” the woman said, lowering her hands with exaggerated care, like he’s some easily spooked stray.

Jimmy frowned, still untrusting. “Castiel thought he had a lot of friends,” he muttered.

The woman huffed out a laugh of agreement. “Then ally, if that’s what you prefer. I rescued Castiel when Uriel, his _friend,_  tried to kill him. I once ripped out my grace, fell to earth and lived as a mud monkey.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do I look like the kind of person who consorts with the likes of Zachariah? I’m insulted.”

“Anael!” Jimmy said, staring at her as prickling familiarity bloomed into recognition. Castiel’s wayward sister who caused him so much conflict. He’d expected a little more...smoke and brimstone from a fallen angel, which in retrospect struck him as ridiculous. It's not as though Zachariah stamped and signed with the endorsement of Heaven resembled anything physically like his true nature.

“I haven’t used that name in a long, long time,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s stick with Anna, okay?”

The ceiling and walls had collapsed during the guard’s final struggles, and they simply walked right through into a huge warehouse empty but for another dead angel. Jimmy paused to stare at the wrecked vessel surrounded by the ashes of burned-up wings, feeling cold. “That could have been me,” he said aloud. _Poor bastards, you didn’t sign up for this, did you? None of us did._

“No hard feelings, I hope,” Anna said, unsmiling. There was something unsettling about her cold practicality— _aren’t they your brothers? don’t you mourn them as Castiel does, every time he’s forced to kill?_ —but Jimmy refrained from prying. Those questions were Castiel’s to ask as a member of the family. Jimmy on the other hand was nothing to Anna but her brother’s vessel, at most a source of insight into his headspace.

How ironic. The very status that he’d thought made him so special instead made him a thing to be hoarded or stolen away. Jimmy felt an exhaustion that seeped like sewage right from the marrow of his bones. As much as he wanted the whole experience to be over already, he’d paid for this ride and there would be no getting off until the end.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the warehouse Anna heaved an audible sigh of relief, vanishing her sword with a turn of her wrist. She manifested her wings, and to Jimmy’s fascination began swiftly transforming them for flight. Armor and blades slid into hidden sheaths, revealing layers of iridescent feathers with long, tapering tips that writhed through the air independent of the direction of the wind. Revealed as well in the bright sunlight was the ragged divot that deformed the right wing, exposing blackened and broken phalanges. Jimmy stared in horror, realizing belatedly there was more to Anna’s stoicism than indifference. “Are you all right?” he asked, guiltily remembering how she had unflinchingly covered him when the ceiling came down on them.

“We don’t exactly have much of a choice,” Anna said bluntly, wrapping her arms around him. “Hold tight, this is going to be rough.”

 _Jimmy_  

The familiar voice tickled his ear faintly, then Anna swept her wings down and they were gone from the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much with Anna's dialogue. One of these days I have to dig up my S4 DVDs and refresh my memory wrt everyone's characterization.
> 
> Winchesters will appear next chapter. Castiel will remain offstage for now.


	3. Chapter 3

They landed, and they crashed.

“Anna? Cass?” The sound of running footfalls. “Are you all right?”

Jimmy cracked his eyes open. He had slammed them shut as soon as that shining impossible road materialized under the cut of Anna’s wings, but it still took several moments of concerted blinking and shaking of his head to clear the sickening colors swooping and curving around him and focus on whoever had him by the shoulder. “Dean,” he blurted out, so relieved that he almost forgot in the heat of the moment that the Winchesters were Castiel’s friends, not his. _We actually made it._ This reminded him—“Anna’s hurt,” he said, quickly pulling away to look around anxiously.

“Where?” Dean craned his neck to check, and Jimmy followed his line of sight to see his giant of a brother carefully relocating Anna’s unconscious form to the nearest bed.

Jimmy shook his head, slowly maneuvering himself to his feet with Dean’s help. He took in his new surroundings: yet another motel room, considerably shabbier than Costa de la Heaven. Two singles, one TV, and vomit-colored wallpaper only slightly improved by the wards drawn over it. _Hiding, quiet, invisibility._ The tactical angel inside Jimmy approved. “It’s, uh, her trueform, you won’t be able to do anything. She had to fight other angels to get me out. ” Insofar as Jimmy’s residency with Castiel made him the de facto expert in the room he could only offer the advice: “Just leave her alone and she’ll heal up on her own.”

“Angels?” Dean raised an eyebrow and he exchanged a meaningful look with Sam. “So we guessed right. What kind of family troubles did you get yourself into, Cass?”

 _Cass…?_ Jimmy shrugged his brief annoyance away telling himself that Dean’s disrespect was about  the least of Castiel’s many problems right now. “First of all,” he began, holding up his hands placatingly and wishing Anna was conscious to explain this, “I’m _not_ Castiel. I’m his vessel, Jimmy Novak.”

The brothers stared at him, suddenly tense as they worked through the implications. “Then where’s Cass?” Dean demanded, glaring at Jimmy as though he was personally responsible for Castiel vacating the premises.

 _This started out_ my _body, you know._ Jimmy bit back the comment; no use in antagonizing the few allies he had, especially when their goodwill was dependent on his relationship with Castiel. “His siblings pulled him out of me and took him home to Heaven.”

“And that’s _not_ good?” Sam asked.

“Very, very not good,” Jimmy said. “Zachariah told me Castiel would be put in Sunday school, to learn how to be a good little trooper again and, well…” He stopped there, allowing his silence to describe the unthinkable more succinctly than words could have.

“Zachariah,” Dean repeated. His expression twisted in a way that made Jimmy very glad that they were technically on the same side. Though he had no idea what they might say or do if they discovered Jimmy never intended to ride the angel comet again if he could help it...he deliberately put a halt to any speculations in that area. He’d deal with that problem when it arose.

“Cass said he had something to tell us,” Dean said after a moment of getting himself back under control. “Something the big shots upstairs really didn’t want us to know.”

Jimmy nodded, unable to trust himself to speak even as Castiel’s message burned urgently in his mind. _This was it,_ he thought. All the years of faithful worship and tithing and volunteer work, all that effort, gone in an instant. Who knew if it ever mattered, outside of softening him up for Castiel’s carefully applied praise. Zachariah had made it very clear that the only good works of his Heaven was interested in was making himself available on the clothesrack anytime Castiel needed a stroll on earth without flashing the natives. Going with Anna was still explainable, from a certain point of view. She was too strong to resist and the only alternative was to be dragged out kicking and screaming.

But there was no way _this_ could be forgiven. It was one thing to damn himself, it was another entirely to be separated from Amelia and Claire for eternity in the afterlife. His chest grew tight at the thought, the same flash of self-directed anger that he’d ever chosen to let them go. Having to make that decision twice over because of Castiel was _killing_ him. More than anything, he wanted to believe so much that Zachariah was wrong and Castiel was right, that the God he had served his entire life would never allow what was happening. _Teach me your ways, O Lord; make them known to me. Teach me to live according to Your truth, for You are my God who saves me. I always trust in You._ He mouthed the words, running the familiar shape of them over his tongue and teeth, even as they rang so hollowly now. He knew Heaven’s will. But was that also _God’s_ will? Was there any distinction to be made at all?

“ _Please_ tell me that he told you whatever it was,” Dean prompted again, growing impatient as the pause stretched awkwardly. “You’re his vessel, aren’t you?”

Jimmy sighed. No point in delaying the inevitable. During his time with Castiel he’d witnessed the angel in many moods: rage, sorrow, determination, confusion, and most familiarly the soldierly stoicism he despised. But the last few seconds of the envesselation was the first he had ever seen Castiel so desperate, so purely and nakedly vulnerable _._ It was the first time he _knew_ Castiel was telling the whole and entire truth, not to manipulate him or shut him down, but because he hoped Jimmy armed with the truth would do the right thing. Because he _trusted_ Jimmy to do the right thing.

Faced with that bright and terrible understanding he had _no choice_ but to believe.

“He did,” Jimmy said heavily. “I promised I would pass on his message. Just...give me a second here, okay?”

He took a seat next to Anna, across from the two brothers who watched him like hawks. His gaze fell on the tips of his shoes, still shiny despite the crap and muck Castiel had virtually waded through over the course of the war. Ditto for his clothes and for his body. If he looked into a mirror he would see the nervous, excited man who had picked out these clothes and walked out of his house thrumming with certainty in his righteous purpose, the man who had _no idea_ of what was to come. Jimmy envied him, mourned him. Jimmy was glad that he was gone.

“The angels have been playing you,” he said to the Winchesters at last. “They don’t have any intention of ending the war. Not so soon, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” This from Sam, looking disturbed while Dean’s vague cynicism stayed firmly in place.

“They _want_ the seals to break,” Jimmy said. “Heaven versus Hell, Michael versus Lucifer, Armageddon, all the stops. They’ve spent the past centuries sharpening their swords, practicing battle formations, moving their pieces into place. Moving _us_ into place.” Dean scowled at that.

“Wait,” Sam said, raising one hand as though he was in school. “If all this is true, why bother to mount a rescue operation for the Righteous Man in the first place? Why not just let him rot in Hell? No offense, Dean, but you’ve been kind of a pain in Heaven’s ass for a while now.”

“None taken,” his brother replied.

“It’s not like the rank and file knew anything about the greater plan,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “Besides, it _worked_.” He smiled bitterly, maybe with some jealousy as well, if he had to admit it to himself. “You befriended the angel who saved you. You trusted him when he gave you the mission to save the seals. You bought into the story his superiors wanted him to tell—”

It’s Dean’s turn to break in, frowning. “Are you saying Cass’ job was to _schmooze_ me?” he said, with obvious disbelief. “For what? Not like anyone has to convince me to save the world I live in.”

Great, now Jimmy couldn’t help contemplating with no small amount of annoyance if Castiel had practiced on him in preparation for Dean. He shoved the irrelevant musings away. “Because you’re special,” he said, the words falling out with a dreamlike sense of déjà vu. “Because you’re chosen.”

Dean arched his brow with a self-deprecating smirk. “Thanks,” he drawled. “But you’d better save that for the dinner and the date, dude.”

Jimmy kept the thought that those lines had gotten Castiel to fourth base fairly quickly to himself. “I mean, you’re like me,” he explained. “You’re the true vessel of Michael. And he really, really wants you to say yes.”

“What,” Dean said, humor fleeing instantly. He laughed incredulously, a short sharp bark vibrating with something dark and nasty. “ _Me,_ Michael’s vessel? Man, I always figured Heaven was fucked up but now I _know_.”

“Dean…” Sam said, moving closer and resting one hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Jimmy could guess at the source of Dean’s objection, and immediately felt guilt at his earlier mean-spiritedness. “It’s in the blood,” he said as gently as possible. Next to Dean, Sam flinched, his face settling into a mask when he caught Jimmy looking. “That’s what Castiel said, when I asked him _why me_. That’s all they care about, you know? Not...anything else.” Unable to meet Dean’s darkening expression any longer, he dropped his eyes.

“ _Anything else_ —” Dean cut himself off with an angry sound. “That’s one way to put it.” There was a tense silence where it’s painfully clear he was forcibly restraining himself from interrogating Jimmy about exactly how much he knew. When he finally spoke again his voice was flat and dead. “Say I believe you this is what Cass risked his halo for. Basically his family’s been fucking with us all this time, and everything we’ve done is meaningless. Everything _I’ve_ done to make up for what I did…”

Jimmy winced.

“There’s still seals left, Dean,” Sam said, squeezing hard. “Thanks to Cass, now that we know the angels aren’t serious about stopping the apocalypse, we can still salvage this, step up our game.” He hesitated, glancing at Jimmy before lowering his voice. “And I’ve been getting stronger. Strong enough to take out Lilith, maybe. Without her leadership the demons will be scattered, weak. We need to regroup with Ruby…”

Jimmy moved away so he wouldn’t intrude, resettling on Anna’s other side. He was watching her when she suddenly stirred, blinking and stretching both human and angelic limbs. The light of her grace brightened and she sat up, completely alert.

“So, what did I miss?” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated for a while whether to let Jimmy know about Lilith or not for various reasons. Mostly because I want Ruby and Jimmy to share scenes, which wouldn't happen if Sam got suspicious of her too early. In the end I went with no but then my outline isn't fully worked out yet. If I make any changes I'll include it in the notes.
> 
> As for Sam being Lucifer's vessel, it'll come up later. 
> 
> Man, dialog is _hard_. Usually I find Jimmy easy to write but ugh exposition. Hopefully it was interesting enough.
> 
> EDIT 28/10: Pulled chapter four for rewriting. Should be back up soon.
> 
> ETA 12/11: OK I know I said it would be up soon, but...yeah...due to a combination of RL issues and working on my Yuletide fic, C4 will be delayed a while longer. Sorry! (__)


End file.
